


Just A Temporary Separation

by sambambucky



Series: Procrastinated Ficmas [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A Little Bit of Retail Hell If You're Familiar, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, But Really There's Nothing In This Fic Except Bucky Missing Sam, Christmas, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambambucky/pseuds/sambambucky
Summary: Sam’s away with his family for Christmas break, and Bucky just - he misses him, okay? And the holiday would be much better if he were there, but he isn’t, so, he’ll be fine.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Series: Procrastinated Ficmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583977
Kudos: 41





	Just A Temporary Separation

Bucky is staring out the window on the bus in the pitch black that is 6 PM of this time of year. His feet screaming are screaming at him for wearing his favorite pair of boots to a ten hour closing shift, but he drowns out the pain by immersing himself fully into the next episode of the podcast he’s listening to. Or, at least, that was what he was intending to do before his thoughts inevitably drift off to Sam when the narrator says _people are beautiful because of where they are placed, and where they are placed are beautiful because people are in it._

Bucky thinks about Sam, and how he’s come into his life and made the most mundane and frustrating parts of his life soft around the edges, how he shines so bright and warm in this dead town of people that can be so indifferent, how he’s so lucky that every little thing has lined up to bring them to each other. Naturally, Bucky doesn't really register his eyes gaze has gone soft and his podcast is over until the voice changes tenor to end side B and the cassette tape noise pulls him back to the present. He resists the urge to shrug. It doesn’t matter, really, if the end of the episode means he’s been zoned out for nearly half an hour. He gives himself a pass, because lately the trip back home has felt like an eternity with Sam too busy at home to idly chat with him on the phone like he often does after a closing shift. 

He’s so close to being able to buy a car, just a few more months and his nearly forty minute commute will be cut to ten, and he can take Sam on dates to places outside of their usual three restaurants. Maybe they’ll even take a day trip. He thinks Sam would like that. Unlike the shrug, Bucky’s not able to hold back the eyeroll when his thoughts drift back to Sam, again. He’s only been gone ten days, and it’s becoming a bit of a problem.

Really, it’s fine. It's fine. Sam is texting him almost nonstop, and almost like magic, Bucky’s pocket buzzes with another picture from Sam. His stop is coming up, so he wills himself not to open it until he gets home. If only to prove to himself that he can hold off; he’d been on his phone so much at work, he’d be in trouble if there if there wasn't so much going on,so many excuses to go to the back and hide between the shelving, so many seasonal hires to gently boss around. 

Sam has been generous and kind in his efforts to keep up conversation with Bucky. He’d regularly respond to whatever Bucky could sneak away to type out, no matter how silly or nonsensical it was.

Every few hours or so though, Sam would stop responding, and Bucky would try not to pout about it. He’s not pathetic, really, just sort of smitten. Or at least, that’s the word Steve had used watching Bucky check his phone for the third time during their fifteen minutes break. 

It’s bittersweet, these long gaps of no communication. Bucky gets teased for checking his phone around literally any of his coworkers (and the occasional nosey customer), but he does get some work done (as much as you can get done in a department store the week before Christmas). Most importantly, though, Sam has gotten into the habit of sending a picture to explain where he’s been during the absence.

Bucky now has a collection of photos (in a folder named Open When Sad, because Sam’s Collection of Christmas Cheer had been a little much) including Sam's hands in a bowl of dough, forearms dusted with flour; Sam walking between two rows of Christmas trees, his cousin on his shoulders and shopping bags in his hands; a cat in a North Swole sweater; Sam holding a baby swaddled in a soft blue blanket and matching bonnet; and Sam eating whipped cream from the can, head tilted back, neck elongated. 

Sam’s sent other pictures, too. Pictures later at night, when they're both only occupied with each other, and Sam has a lot fewer clothes on. They don’t get saved into the same folder, but he cherishes them just as much.

Bucky gets all the way into his apartment and manages to kicks his shoes off into the corner and pull his hair tie out before he opens the message. A full fifteen minutes, it’s probably a new record. It’s a semi-out of focus picture of Sam crouching down behind two young children holding poorly decorated sugar cookies. The proud grins on their faces is contagious, Bucky smiles while typing out his reply.

Tony and Nat had warned him not to get involved with university boys. 

_“They only come here for the cheap tuition and the freely flowing alcohol.”_

_“They all have families to go home to during breaks, and big dreams of moving away the day after graduation,”_ and for the most part they’d been right. Bucky kept his distance from them, only dated friends of friends that were also stuck in his miserable little army town. 

But sometimes, he’d question whether he supposed to be happy with that. Not everyone was lucky enough to still be with their high school sweetheart like Tony, or have the personality and trust to do long distance like Nat. Bucky had eventually resigned himself to being single, making due with long-term hookups and flirting with his coworkers. 

And then Sam had come in looking for _jeans that accentuate my ass without costing fifty bucks, you know?_ By the end of that afternoon’s shift, Bucky had made an exception for a specific university boy.

Now, he doesn’t regret it, not at all. Even though, as it turns out, monogamy makes Bucky a bit - clingy. 

It’s been little over a week, ten days exactly, since Sam went back home to be with his family for winter break. He’ll be back in ten more days, and it’ll be like he never left. Intellectually, he can admit that ten days is not a long time to go without seeing your boyfriend. Emotionally, however, Bucky is vaguely worried about himself. 

He makes a point to only whine about it to Sam, and even that he tries to keep at an acceptable minimum. He tells Sam he misses him mostly when he’s sleepy, gets sappy only when his bed feels extra empty. 

Luckily, he’s fairly certain Sam is very into him, at least for now. Even with the stress of finals, and Bucky’s busy schedule that comes with this time of year, they’d been able to have a few actual dates before Sam went back to California. Bucky had seen Sam off to the airport confident that their relationship could withstand three weeks of being apart.

The facts of it all don't stop Bucky from missing him. How well Sam understand him, even when he knows he is sometimes difficult to get. He listens to Bucky complain and rant about work and his family, pays rapt attention to ill-timed tangents about his nerdy sci-fi miniseries. Bucky remembers the fond smile Sam wore while Bucky shouted about the impossible science of the fob at their friendsgiving luncheon.

Sam is smart, empathetic and loyal, with all the brave and daring energy and none of the tendency to chase his righteous anger to self-destruction like certain people Bucky might have chased after in the past.

Sam calls him to say goodnight just as Bucky is getting beneath the covers that night. They recap their day, bicker good-naturedly about nothing important, and then, because its late, Bucky confesses that he wishes they could spend Christmas morning together. It’s mostly because he’s tired, and restless, and the empty spot in his bed feels colder than it has all week, but Sam just hums in agreement like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Sam says he wishes Bucky could have come with him, that he could be right there on the couch with him watching the twinkling lights on the tree. _We even have that disgusting brandy you love_ , he says quietly, and it’s so fond Bucky doesn’t know what to say for a minute. 

He just wishes things were easier, that things were different, that they were older, maybe, more settled. Because he wants to do all of that shit with Sam; wants to decorate their house and host their friends, and cuddle up to watch the endless supply of Hallmark’s mass-produced christian heteronormative propaganda movies (okay, maybe he wants to start with that and end up doing something else to spite the regressive values in those movies). 

With everyone around him so full of joyous laughter, seeming fit to burst with simple, contagious cheer, Bucky thinks he’s allowed to miss the person that makes him feel like that all year round.

⁂

He’d fallen asleep with the same bittersweet warmth in his chest that always accompanied falling asleep on the phone with Sam. He wakes up on Christmas Eve with a text from his boyfriend that threatens retaliation for his infraction on their relationship contract, and promises he’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it.

With the time difference, and his inability to sleep in, Bucky knows better than to expect a response within the next couple of hours, so he spends his morning luxuriating as best he can in his tiny apartment while Steve and Clint are out before heading in to work to catch up with them.

Like most Christmas Eve shifts, Bucky expects it to be enjoyable at best and an absolute disaster at worst. He ends up working twelve hours on his feet - a bit of creative time clock work makes most labor laws flexible this time of year - then closes down the store with some of his favorite team members (and a couple of his least), staying two hours after the doors are locked to only able to get half of the tables folded down properly. It’s a nightmare, but one that can’t be helped, so when he finally locks the doors and makes sure Kate and Eli make it to their cars, he’s grinning with the satisfaction of a job well done.

Steve pulls up in his old truck, blasting Mariah Carey and wearing his third holiday-themed sweater of the week. If he hadn’t drove twenty minutes to get there, Bucky would think he was drunk, his cheeks pink and his movements loose.

“I’m just chock full of Christmas cheer, Buck,” Steve grins at him before reaching into the back seat to retrieve a flat box wrapped in butcher paper. “I know how you are about opening gifts in front of people, just take it and open it whenever.”

“Luckily you don’t count as people,” Bucky responds easily, tearing off the paper as Steve pulls out of the parking lot. 

Underneath is a leather-bound notebook with his initials engraved into the bottom corner. Bucky takes a breath, turning it over in his palms - it’s easily the nicest notebook he’s ever owned, and he knows from window shopping the pen resting in the attached loop is just as expensive. Bucky opens the notebook, careful not to bend or crease anything, and inside the front cover is an inked illustration of him and Sam cuddled up with Alpine. 

“Steve,” he starts, picking it up to take a closer look. It’s beautiful, he barely recognizes himself, but the likeness is undeniable. He remembers the coordinated outfits they wore to Nat’s birthday party. Steve’s rendered them perfectly, a memory archived in careful lines and delicate shading. Bucky glances back down at the still open notebook and his eyes widen at what’s left inside. “Wait, is this also for me?” 

“Yeah,” Steve half sighs half sings, “It’s from Tony. He said you’d never let him buy you anything, so -”

“So, he gave me cash,” Bucky finishes, counting the money with a laugh.

“Yeah? I tried to - like, stop him. It’s a long story,” Bucky turns to look at Steve then, and notices the way he shifts uncomfortably in his sweater, clears his throat when Bucky takes too long to respond.

“Tell him thanks, and I love him. When’s the wedding, again?”

“Shut up,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky with a shy smile on his lips. _It’s been seven years_ , Bucky thinks, _it’s not cute to still be blushing at the idea of marriage_. 

This time he spares him the teasing, and sends Sam a picture of the illustration after staring at it a few more minutes. 

⁂

They pull up to Tony’s gigantic house, and Bucky laughs remembering the way Tony had shrugged at him in high school, explaining that his parents _had money_. It’d taken years before he’d actually understood the scope of it, the degree to which Tony and his family had money, despite his ability to hide it during the rest of the year with his worn in jeans and grubby band tees. _It’s the accessories_ , Natasha had to explain when she was not at all surprised at what he’d learned after the first and last homecoming party Tony ever hosted, _His sneakers? The watch? The Starks are loaded, and they don’t really care what he spends the money on._

Bucky’s brought his backpack with a change of clothes and a toothbrush, ready for another Christmas sleepover at the Stark mansion. Pepper, Rhodey, Peter and Natasha are already there, eating soup around the fire when Bucky and Steve arrive, and the soft domesticity only gets worse from there. Tony hands Bucky an oversized sweater that’s softer than anything he’s ever owned, and by the time he showers and changes into it, he feels as soft as everyone looks.

They all get up early for a stupidly nice meal, a breakfast feast that serves to remind Bucky that his best friend’s boyfriend is not _well off_ or _successful_ , they’re rich, and he can’t wait for the destination wedding in Greece or wherever the hell they end up. 

The rest of the day is a cozy whirlwind of baking, decorating, and eating cookies, drinking hot chocolate and cider, taking so many pictures, and passing around so many gifts, all while different people come and go as their family obligations permit. 

Stephen and Bruce, then Shuri, Ned and MJ, followed by Happy and Harley arrive by late afternoon, and Steve and Tony gather everyone into the main room after they’re all full from the dinner spread. The couple gives a present to each guest and watches them open it, looking for all the world like 25-year old patriarchs of their little found family. One by one, they open present after present - always something small, but perfectly suited to their tastes while the gathered group gasps and coos. Bucky watches Tony share a private smile with Steve after each one, and they look so pleased with themselves, cuddled under a thick blanket, who could blame Bucky for checking his phone? He’s already gotten his gift, after all, and he’s barely gotten a chance to text Sam all day.

The sitting room smells like pine and citrus, and there’s so many treats and drinks, Bucky can’t keep track of when and what he’s eaten since he arrived the day before. He tells Sam this in strangely worded text that sounds like a poorly crafted haiku, but Sam doesn’t text him back. 

Bucky leaves his phone on the end table, and bunkers down in the space next to Natasha under her blanket. She kisses his cheek as they watch the last present of the night being opened, and Bucky realizes he really hasn’t sulked over Sam not being around since the day before.

It helps that Nat and Tony have made sure to keep his glass filled with eggnog and mulled wine, and spiked every cup of cider he’d poured with whiskey to the point where missing Sam has been reduced to a dull ache. There’s probably too many of them squished onto this couch, but the floor is cold, and all the blankets and body heat make for a pretty irresistible situation. When Steve starts their Die Hard movie marathon, Bucky has the perfect vantage point to watch as everyone drifts in and out of sleep. 

It’s a slow, wiggly struggle, but Bucky gets his phone out of his back pocket after the second movie starts and checks in with his lagging text conversation with Sam. 

Sam:  
_hows tonys?  
Having another sleepover?_

Bucky:  
_nah I'm headed home soon_

Sam:  
_cuties like u shouldnt spend xmas alone_

Bucky:  
_u charmer  
I just dont wanna get stuck here.  
Supposed to snow tonight_

Sam:  
_call me when you get home?_

Bucky sighs a bit, because he does want to hear Sam's voice, but he’s starting to feel clingy again. Like Sam somehow knows how bad he’s missing him, and is annoyed by it. They’ve barely spoken all day, but at this point he’s maybe one more glass of wine from being worryingly drunk. He gets even sappier when he’s been drinking.

He promises Sam that he’ll call anyway. He’s drunk, not an idiot, and even if he ends up crying about how much he misses him, Bucky knows the perfect end to this day will be a long debrief about their respective Christmases. He orders his car, and takes care to extract himself from the cuddle pile before telling Sam it’s only supposed to take a half an hour. He gets a few murmured goodbyes and half-asleep well wishes from the handful of friends that are left. Bucky pulls on his layers slowly, then takes a picture of the group, all illuminated by the giant tv, empty cups and wrapping paper strewn about their blanketed bodies. It’s tough a tough scene to leave, but Bucky decides to be mature, knowing better than to be on the other side of town when the snow starts.

Bucky was right about the drinking making him sentimental; sometimes he thinks it isn’t that bad, and every time he’s proven wrong. His driver asks how his Christmas was, and he ends up talking about Sam for fifteen minutes straight. By the time he’s getting around to telling her about not wanting to call because it’ll be obvious he’s like, actually in love with him, Bucky’s eyes are welling up.

“You really love him, don’t you?” She asks, a little wonder in the tone, way kinder than Bucky thinks he deserves. 

“Yeah,” Bucky sniffles around a laugh, “I got him a dumb beanie and a cheap framed photo of us from the summer for Christmas, and he acted like I’d bought him a new car.” Bucky rolls his eyes fondly at the memory, and the driver grins at him in the rearview mirror. 

“That’s really cute. What’d he get you?”

Bucky sighs, “He gave me the cutest teddy bear I’d ever seen in my life. And a key to his apartment.” 

The driver lets out a low whistle, and Bucky feels like crying all over again. He doesn’t like to admit it, and Sam hates when he even starts this line of thinking, but Sam is too good for him.

He’s not stupid enough to breakup with him over it, or run away from love as Steve had put it, but sometimes he is actually overwhelmed by all of it. Sam’s kindness and warmth, his blinding smile and good nature, his smart ass comments, the weird compatible chemistry they found on their first date - it’s unbelievable. It happens a lot, but especially when Sam’s away, Bucky wonders if he’s taking his good fortune for granted.

Bucky starts to gather his jacket and pull himself together when he finally recognizes the street they’re on. Luckily, he’ll probably be able to get into the house and showered before it starts snowing. 

“Anywhere next to the blue beetle is good,” he tells her, pulling out his keys, “Thanks so much. Sorry I kinda rambled on the entire time. I’m sure you get enough of that.”

“It’s more than alright,” she responds, flicking on her hazards and shooting him a warm smile over her shoulder, “Wait, who’s that?” 

Bucky follows her gaze to the front steps of his apartment and sees a figure loitering outside of the main door. He’s going to blame it on the almost entire day of drinking, but Bucky takes more than a moment to recognize him.

“That’s Sam,” he answers, confused, and gets out of the car as the driver positively squeals behind him.

Sam is grinning at him, all bundled up in his new beanie and more layers than might be strictly necessary.

He’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

When Bucky finally makes his way across the street, Sam raises a gloved hand at him in greeting, “Hi.”

“Hi?” Bucky breathes, “What’re you doing here?”

“I missed you too much to stay away another week,” he responds seriously, but then he’s grinning like he’s gotten away with something. Maybe he has. Bucky can’t be sure what he had to do to get here, and finds quickly that he doesn’t really care. Sam missed him, came back for him, for both of them to be together.

Bucky presses into Sam’s coat and kisses him like it’s the first time in six months. Sam makes a noise low in his throat and wrap his arms around Bucky’s middle, parting their lips and licking into Bucky’s mouth. The cold around them makes the shared heat of their mouths feel like they’re searing. Sam takes claim, marks Bucky as his own, and he shudders against him. 

Sam pulls back a couple of inches, his breath visible between them. Bucky pulls off one of his gloves and runs his fingertips along Sam’s cheek. He hums, a smile on his lips before he leans back in to kiss Bucky again. This one is just as passionate, but of a different quality. Sam pulls Bucky’s bare hand into his coat pocket and kisses him slowly, taking as much as he gives and Bucky’s dizzy in dragging warmth of it.

He misses what Sam whispers when they pull away the second time. He nuzzles his face into the warm crook of Sam’s neck and hums a questioning sound.

“I said it’s snowing,” Sam chuckles underneath him. Bucky looks up, and wouldn’t you know. There’s pretty little snowflakes falling down around them, illuminated mostly by a nearby streetlamp. Sam tucks in impossibly closer, and they stand there together watching the flurries sparkle and dance down.

The street outside is still, all of Bucky’s neighbors not home or tucked in for the night. The two of them stand in each others arms, allowed to just exist in each other’s arms for a quiet moment.

“I missed you, too,” Bucky finally interrupts dazedly. Sam kisses his cheek, lets a smile grow unabashedly on his face. 

It turns out to be the best Christmas he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> You ever stare out the window listening to Within the Wires and think, "Bucky would do this"?
> 
> I definitely had no beta, and started getting sick of reading and rereading my own writing, so if there's any mistakes - that's on me. If you can get passed that, Comments and Kudos are more than appreciated!<3


End file.
